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The Grammar School Boys in Summer Athletics, a novel by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 21. Old Dut Gives Wise Counsel |
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_ CHAPTER XXI. OLD DUT GIVES WISE COUNSEL Boys attired in their best tip-toed about in creaking new shoes, resplendently polished for the occasion. Every boy had a flower in his upper button-hole. Exhibition Hall, usually so bare and barnlike in appearance, was now a jungle of potted plants and ferns, with clumps of bright flowers everywhere. Over the broad stage hung a fourteen-foot American flag. Flags of other nations, in smaller bits of bunting, trailed off on either side. The piano stood before the center of the stage, down on the floor. Grouped near were the music stands and chairs for other members of the orchestra on this festal day of graduation. Here and there women teachers still superintended little squads of girls who were putting on the last bright touches of ornamentation. One teacher was drilling a dozen much-dressed-up boys of the seventh grade, who were to act as ushers on this great Thursday afternoon. It was half an hour before the doors were to be opened. Curiously enough, there were no eighth-grade pupils present. These were assembled in Room 1, on the floor below, seated behind the desks that had been theirs during the school year. "Young ladies and gentlemen," began Old Dut, rapping on his desk and rising. As he looked about there was a curious expression on his face, and some water in his twinkling eyes. "I am going to take occasion to say the last few words that I shall have a chance to say to you confidentially and in private," continued the principal. "I am conscious that I am taking one of my last looks at you all as my pupils. I might call this the dying class, if it were not for the fact that, for most of you, to-day will be the real birth. You will go forth into the world to-day, the larger portion of you. You will leave school behind and tackle the world as budding men and women. You will begin soon to grapple with the work, the problems, the toil---the tears and the joys that come with the beginnings of grown-up life. Those of you who are to be favored with a chance to go further in your education, and who will be schoolboys and schoolgirls yet a while, I most sincerely congratulate. For those who, on the other hand, will step straight from Exhibition Hall into the world of work---aye, and the world of deeds and triumphs, too---I bid you to be of good cheer and courage! "Be bold, true and loyal! If you have any wonder, any misgivings as to what the world and life may have in store for you, I tell you that these are questions that you will decide mainly for yourselves. It's the hardest thing in this universe to down any man or woman who faces grown-up life with a good and honest claim on the good things of existence. Yet on this subject one word more. Uprightness of heart, of word and deed are not alone sufficient. There is one more great quality that you must link with general honesty and loyalty. Castle Great cannot be stormed except by those who move forward with backbone---Courage! Be bold, steadfast, unwavering. Never lose anything that you justly want through fear that you can't get it. Go after it! The soldier is the type of courage and a good one. Yet you don't find more than one of our soldiers of life in a military uniform. There are soldiers, boys, in every crowd that you mingle with on the street. Be one of them yourselves! "Boys, be brave, but be gentle. Remember that the bravest men are gentle as any woman. As a soldier proves his courage by his conquests, so must you prove your courage, if you have any to show, by your achievements in the life that starts to-morrow for most of you. Honor and courage! Together they will carry you to lofty heights. If you fail, then reflect that you don't possess these two qualities of manhood. Get these qualities---at no matter what cost---and start out again to victory. "Girls, be women. Stop and think what it means to be women. All the sweetest, truest and gentlest attributes of the human race. Be women, every minute of your lives, and you will have reached heights where not even the most soldierly boys may follow you. Be women, and the men of our race will reverence and honor you. "Young ladies and gentlemen, this day comes to me once in every year. It is an old practice with me, as I see each class go forth in our last hour together, to feel that I am watching the departure of the best and truest class that I have yet taught. But this year I am moved more than ever to that feeling. There are those among you who have shown me traits of character that have filled me with even more much more than my usual amount of faith in the future of the American nation. Young ladies and gentlemen, my fellow citizens, permit me to thank you for your loyal work to make this graduating class what it is, and what it is destined to become. Go forth to uphold the traditions of Gridley and the glory of America, and may God bless you, one and all." His voice rather husky, and his eyes a little more wet, Old Dut sank back into the well-worn chair from which he had taught so many eighth-grade classes. "Three cheers for our principal!" proposed Danny Grin. The cheers were given lustily, with half a dozen tigers. "Master Dalzell," replied Old Dut, "coming from the boy who, as the records show, has been disciplined more frequently in the last year than any other pupil present, I consider that a tribute indeed." "I meant it," said Dan simply. Later the pupils of the five upper grades marched solemnly into Exhibition Hall, the appearance of the graduating class being greeted with applause by enthusiastic relatives and friends. The orchestra played triumphal marches until all had marched in to their seats. Then the orchestra paused, only to begin a moment later with the first measures of the opening chorus, sung by more than three hundred youthful voices. It was the usual medley, contributed by pupils who could really sing and by others who really couldn't. An undertone of varying discord ran along under the truer melody. Then, after his name had been called by the principal, Dick Prescott rose. Very stiff and starched, and painfully conscious of the creaking of his shoes as he went forward in that awesome stillness, Dick ascended the platform, advanced to the front center, made an elaborate bow, and then, in an almost scared voice he began to tell the assembled hundreds of grown-ups why they were there as though they didn't know already. This performance, which admitted of very few gestures, was stated on the programme to be "The Salutatory." From his being chosen to render this address, it was easily to be inferred that Dick was regarded as the brightest boy of the class. Then other exercises followed. Two members of the Board of Education also had pieces to speak. One told of the educational policy and methods followed in the Gridley schools, on which subject he knew vastly less than any of the eight smiling teachers present. The other member of the Board of Education gave a lot of chilled advice to the members of the graduating class, he did this at much greater length and with far less effect than Old Dut had lately done in his last private talk with his class. There were a lot of other pieces to be spoken, most of them by the youngsters. There were songs, also exercises in vocal gymnastics. Pupils of the lower classes displayed their expertness at mental arithmetic. Then, after more singing, the superintendent of schools, who had just arrived, mounted the platform and presented each graduating one with a diploma, showing that the recipients had faithfully and successfully completed their Grammar School course. More music, after which Laura Bentley, a pretty little vision in white cloud effects, with yards of pink ribbon for the sunshine, stepped to the platform, made her bow and launched into the valedictory. "And now," called Old Dut from the audience, "the old eighth grade is no more. The exercises are over. I thank all who have contributed to make this occasion so pleasant." "Three cheers for Old---Mr. Jones, the principal!" yelled Dan Dalzell, as the scrambling to get out began. Needless to say, the cheers were given. Now that the ordeal was over, it was nothing to the discredit of fine Old Dut that the youngsters would have cheered a yellow dog had they been so requested. Old Dut had slipped down to the egress. There he shook hands with each graduate, wishing them all possible success in life. "And be sure to come back to these exhibitions whenever you can in after years," the principal called as the last members of the late class were going down the stairs. "Dick," chuckled Harry Hazelton, as they descended, "when Old Dut was calling on you to go forward and do your little stunt, did you notice the fly on the left side of his nose that he was trying to brush off without letting any one see the move? Ha, ha, ho!" "Shut up, Hazy," growled Prescott almost savagely. "Haven't you any idea of reverence? We're going down these steps for the last time as Central Grammar boys. I'd rather do it in silence, and thoughtfully." "Isn't Dickins the queer old chap?" demanded Harry Hazelton, falling back by Reade's side. "It's a pity you couldn't be queer, just for once, and hold your tongue until we are outside the good old schoolyard," grunted Tom. "They're a pair of cranks," muttered Harry to Dave Darrin. "Imitate 'em for once," Darry advised dryly. "Remember, it's the cranks who make the world go around." For the most part, both boys and girls got their hats very quietly. Then they passed out into the open, walked across the yard and gathered in little groups outside, each holding his beribboned diploma in his right hand. "It's all over," sighed Tom Reade outside the gate. "Somehow, I wish that I had another year to go---or else that I'd been a little more decent to Old Dut." "It was a good old school," sighed Dick, looking back almost regretfully. "And, by the way-----" "Speech, Dick!" cried a dozen of the boys, crowding around him. "Get out!" laughed Prescott. "I spoke my piece two hours ago." Yet the boys continued to crowd about him. "He's going to tell us now what the man on the clubhouse steps said!" proclaimed Danny Grin hopefully. _ |
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